


Moonlight in Silver Thread

by ghostwise



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 23:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15761667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwise/pseuds/ghostwise
Summary: Little leaves stitched with care, tiny rabbit ears made up of diminutive points. Moonlight in silver thread.They are lovely. And perfect.(Yet another one about the Dalish Gloves.)





	Moonlight in Silver Thread

Hamal inspects the gloves carefully. They are soft and worn—softer still, having been washed after he found them—lined in rabbit fur and embroidered in delicate thread. He pulls them on and finds them a bit snug, but Zevran’s hands are more graceful than his by far. The thread is richly colored, but its various hues complement the soft blue weave of the gloves’ material.

They tell a story about a rabbit in love with both moons. Little leaves stitched with care, tiny rabbit ears made up of diminutive points. Moonlight in silver thread.

They are lovely. And perfect. And so he makes up his mind.

The next day he waits, patiently feeling for the right moment. Not that it’s hard to be alone with Zevran. He is usually happy to oblige when Hamal subtly draws him away from camp, for any number of reasons; to hunt birds and rabbits, to scout the path ahead, to explore the surrounding area. Whatever else happens during these stolen moments where they are alone together is inconsequential. But Hamal doesn’t _want_ this to be a stolen moment.

It must be organic. Spontaneous.

When it finally happens, a lull has fallen over the camp, the day’s activities winding down. Hamal cannot help but smile in anticipation as he moves to sit in the empty space near Zevran.

“You’re in good spirits,” Zevran laughs. “I know, I know. It is because you are pleased to see me, yes?”

“Actually, it is.”

Surprise dances warmly across Zevran’s features, lighting up for a fleeting instant. Hamal laughs to see it. Zevran plays at being cocky and boisterous, but often does not even believe the act himself. It is good to catch him off guard.

As he leans close to the other man, he makes sure to hold that warm gaze, so that Zevran is unprepared when the gift is placed into his hands.

Zevran blinks, and looks down. “Gloves!” he says, rolling the soft fabric between his fingers. “… What for?”

Now there’s a question Hamal hadn’t been expecting. But he supposes not everyone reacts to gifts the same way. He hesitates, before a grin tugs at his lips. “They, uh, go on your hands, Zevran,” he explains carefully, then turns away, laughing. Zevran clicks his tongue disapprovingly, giving him a shove.

“Ah, you are a fool, you know that?” Zevran shakes his head and laughs. He gives the gloves one more appraising look before holding them out to Hamal once more. “Very handsome. You have excellent taste,” he says.

Hamal simply looks at the gloves, unsure what Zevran is doing.

Then the realization clicks, and he finds himself struggling to explain.

“They’re- they’re for you, Zevran. I saw them and thought of you.”

“For me?” Zevran trails off, looking at him. Then he looks at the gloves again. “Oh… I…”

Hamal ducks his head, hiding the rising heat on his face. Lately a lot of their conversations lapse into silence like this. He’s never quite sure what would happen if he didn’t scramble to fill the quiet when it happens. Or why it happens at all. He’s not sure about any of it, but he wonders.

“They’re like your mother’s gloves, right?” he prompts.

Zevran’s eyes widen. It dawns on him, then, and suddenly he cannot look closely enough at the gloves and their little details. “Maker’s breath, you’re right! These are like my mother’s.” He tugs one onto his hand and holds it up to see how the fabric moves and stretches—and Hamal lets out a relieved sigh, because they fit damn near perfectly.

“The leather was less thick, and they had more embroidery, but these are very close,” Zevran pronounces finally, pulling on the other glove. For him, the sensation is nostalgic, bittersweet. How many times had he slipped on those gloves, years ago, when the fingers were too long for his hands? He could almost pretend he was holding his mother’s hands at the time. Though that foolish notion was robbed from him quickly enough.

Meanwhile, pleased that the gift has been well received, Hamal simply watches him. It hardly occurs to him that now he is doing it as well—being quiet. Until Zevran looks at him, with a smile that’s fading.

“Oh, and I thought you were just _showing_ them to me… how embarrassing.”

“Well… I did sort of just throw them at you unannounced.” Hamal shrugs. “It’s nothing, Zevran.”

“Still! I appreciate the fact that you even thought of me. And that you remembered what I said about my mother’s gloves. No one has ever given me something like this before. _Thank you_.”

“You are more than welcome,” Hamal says, and the tension he’d been hanging onto all day dissipates. The gift is given, and cherished. He tries not to linger on the fact that Zevran is so unused to receiving a simple kindness, such as a used pair of gloves, that his first instinct was to hand them back. Likewise he stifles down the urge to gush sentimentally. _Of course I remembered._ _I always think of you._

Instead he leans over and wraps his arms around him. Taking Zevran’s hands in his own, he brushes the tips of his fingers over the embroidered moonlight.

“Oh, I see now. These were just an excuse to hold hands.” Zevran says, grinning.

“Yep. My intentions are entirely selfish. I do nice things for you simply because seeing you happy makes me happy, and no other reason.”

“Fiend,” Zevran declares. “Scoundrel.”

“You got me.” And with that Hamal smiles, shuts his eyes, and rests his forehead against Zevran’s shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> Perhaps one day this will be absorbed into a multi-chapter format. For now it is here, just fluff for the sake of fluff. Thanks for reading!


End file.
